As I unlocked my office door, I felt a presence behind me. I turned around slowly. A tall figure emerged from the shadows and I flinched. I cursed myself for the frightened reaction I made.
Gazing down at me with shining gold eyes, my seven-foot hellhound touched my shoulder with his long paw.
Because I couldn’t understand Blick’s low canine mutter, I had grown accustomed to his speaking telepathically to me. On occasion, it allowed us to communicate without others overhearing us. His thoughts leaping into my mind were an extension of my own, and I rarely objected to having them flow through my head.
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